To Mr Carson of Downton Abbey
by evitamockingbird
Summary: Mr. Carson receives a mysterious letter and knows he must take action to maintain the prestige of Downton Abbey. Crack!fic that takes place a few months after series 3 Christmas special. Enjoy a little silliness with Mr. Carson and various other household members, both upstairs and downstairs.
1. The Problem

Mr. Carson's eyebrows drew together as he sat at his desk reading a letter. Its contents troubled him deeply. He knew that he bore the responsibility of making certain that Downton Abbey ran as it should, so the serious accusations in the letter must be carefully considered. After some deliberation, he determined that although the tone in which the letter was written was disrespectful, its primary charge was true. And as butler of the great house, he must remedy the deficiency. Folding the missive and placing it in his pocket, he rose from his chair and marched out of his office, prepared to do battle for the honor of Downton Abbey.

#####

"Good morning, Anna," Mr. Carson said, when he found her sewing at the table in the servants' hall.

Anna smiled mischievously. "Shouldn't you call me Mrs. Bates now that I'm a true lady's maid, Mr. Carson?"

"Of course, Mrs. Bates. My apologies."

She laughed. "I was only teasing you, Mr. Carson. I can understand that it takes a little time to break an old habit. You've known me since I was barely more than a girl, after all."

"Perhaps," he answered. "But I of all people should be mindful of appropriate forms of address." After a pause, he relaxed a bit. "I'm just making my rounds. How are you? And how is Mr. Bates?"

"I'm quite well, Mr. Carson, and so is Mr. Bates. He says sometimes he can still hardly believe he's really back at Downton. We're very happy."

"And how fares Lady Mary?" he asked with some concern

"I think she is well, considering the circumstances," Anna observed. "She has her good days and her bad days, as you might expect, but I think the worst, most wretched hours have passed."

Mr. Carson smiled, relieved to hear such a report. "I'm very glad to hear it, Mrs. Bates, very glad indeed. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be moving along."

#####

Mr. Carson visited the nursery next. He was not surprised to see Lady Mary there, of course, but finding Lady Edith with her was unexpected. The two were not the best of friends, to put it mildly. As he walked by the open door, Lady Mary called out to him.

"Carson, is that you? Will you come here, please?"

He presented himself to the ladies, both very elegant, though in mourning. "How may I help, my lady?"

"Edith and I are having a bit of a disagreement and we hope you might help resolve it."

Mr. Carson knew to tread carefully here. "I do not know if it would be appropriate for me to take sides in a quarrel between sisters, but I am glad to attempt mediation if you wish it."

Lady Mary and Lady Edith both smiled broadly. "Oh, Carson, it isn't as serious as all that!" Lady Edith protested. "We merely can't agree on whether Mrs. Patmore's raspberry tart is better than her chocolate custard and would like her to make both at the same time so we may taste them side by side."

Mr. Carson would never have described asking Mrs. Patmore to make two desserts in one night as not serious, but he kept that observation to himself.

"But perhaps we should apply instead to Mrs. Hughes on this matter?" Lady Mary suggested.

Mr. Carson nodded absently. "Mrs. Hughes, yes..." He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment and the two ladies exchanged a curious glance. "Yes, Mrs. Hughes prepares the menus," Mr. Carson said briskly, returning to the present. "However, I will be sure to mention your request to her, so you needn't trouble yourselves to speak to her about it."

"Thank you, Carson," said Lady Edith.

"You're very welcome. I'll be about my business now, but may I say, ladies, how glad I am to see you both... looking so well."

"He means he's amazed we're getting along, Edith," Lady Mary said drily, looking amused. "We're in the same room and aren't trying to claw one another's eyes out."

"I would never say - such a thing would be the height of impertinence!" Mr. Carson sputtered. He glanced at Lady Edith to see how she bore her sister's remark, but she seemed to find it humorous as well.

"It's unlikely it will last," Lady Edith added, "so we thought it best to take advantage of this unexpected moment of sisterly harmony."

"Yes, Carson," Lady Mary said lightly, "I know it's disconcerting, but soon enough we'll be back to our old tricks." She and Lady Edith both stifled their giggles at Mr. Carson's mystified expression.

"Well, I suppose I should get on with my duties," he said. "Good day to you, ladies." Mr. Carson bowed and left the nursery. As he walked the gallery, he couldn't deny that he felt a rising dismay at what he had just witnessed. Lady Mary and Lady Edith getting on well! They were not at one another's throats, but neither had they reached a dramatic and lasting rapprochement. He sighed. This would never do. Still, it was early.

#####

Mr. Carson's morning rounds produced nothing satisfactory when it came to resolving the problem brought to his attention by the letter, but he had no intention of giving up. He had high hopes when he saw Mr. Barrow and Miss O'Brien walking together out the back door after lunch. He followed them outside and saw Miss O'Brien hand Mr. Barrow a cigarette before lighting her own. They rounded a corner and Mr. Carson was able to listen to their conversation without being observed. He felt the shame of his undignified behavior, but he knew it was for a purpose. The honor of Downton must be upheld and certainly these two individuals were more likely than most to provide aid in this peculiar situation.

"Did you notice how distracted Mr. Carson looked just now?" Miss O'Brien asked her companion.

"No, and I don't care, neither. He can do as he pleases as far as I'm concerned. I'd rather discuss the weather than that boring old git, distracted or no." Mr. Barrow paused, presumably for a drag on his cigarette.

"Very well," Miss O'Brien answered. "Nice weather today, isn't it, Mr. Barrow?"

He chuckled. "Indeed, it is, Miss O'Brien, indeed it is. I thought it might rain today, but it's very fine out."

"We've had more than enough rainy days in the last month to suit my taste. It's good to see the sun at last."

"I agree. And thank you for the cigarette."

Mr. Carson tried to huff as silently as possible as he abandoned the field and went back inside. He could hardly believe he had just listened to Mr. Barrow and Miss O'Brien sharing a companionable conversation, and about the weather, of all things! They would be no help to him. But surely _somewhere_ in the house and grounds he could find what he was looking for.

A bell rang in the servants hall, indicating that her ladyship had requested service in her private parlor.

"Mr. Carson, her ladyship's tea is just now ready, but there's no maid to take it up," Daisy said, approaching him.

"Not to worry, Daisy," Mr. Carson answered. "I'll take it up myself. I'm headed that way anyway."

#####

When Mr. Carson entered Lady Grantham's parlor, she was sitting on a sofa with her husband.

"Carson, is anything the matter downstairs? Couldn't one of the maids have brought the tea up?" she said.

Mr. Carson drew himself up proudly. "Nothing is amiss downstairs, my lady. I was simply coming this way and thought to wait on you personally."

"Thank you, Carson," Lord Grantham said as the butler set the tea tray down. The earl and countess sat down at the table together.

"I had a letter from Mother today," Lady Grantham said to her husband.

"Oh?"

Mr. Carson's ears pricked up at this. He wondered what Mrs. Levinson had to say. "She writes the most boring letters these days, Robert, but I can't say I wish it otherwise. Tedious letters mean there hasn't been any tragedy or hardship. I think we've had enough to last us a long while."

"Right you are, my dear."

Mr. Carson had finished setting out tea, so he left the room. He was really becoming exasperated. He needed a solution and was running out of ideas.

#####

The day would soon be over and Mr. Carson had been utterly frustrated at every turn. The afternoon had passed peacefully, the family and the servants had all eaten dinner, and the dowager and Mrs. Crawley were on their way back to their homes. Soon he would make his way downstairs to see that everything was as it should be before eventually going to bed.

Mr. Carson walked slowly but purposefully into the library, hands clasped behind his back. He came to stand before the fire and removed the letter from his pocket. He opened it once more and read it, dwelling for some time on one passage in particular, before carefully placing it on the fire.

"It shall be done," he said softly, staring into the flames. Mr. Carson waited until the letter had burned completely beyond recognition and then, with a smile in his eyes, made his way with rather a light step to the stairs leading down to the servants' hall.

_To be continued..._


	2. The Solution

The servants' hall was dark and nearly deserted. The last few yawning staff trickled up to their attic rooms for some much-needed sleep, but light from Mrs. Hughes's sitting room showed Mr. Carson that the housekeeper, as usual, was one of the last to retire. He knocked on the open door to announce his presence and she looked up.

"Good evening, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes said with a smile. "I wondered if you'd be down before I went to bed. Would you like a little drink?"

"That would be lovely, Mrs. Hughes," he answered. More nights than not over the last several months, the two of them had sat together drinking tea or a bit of wine leftover from dinner, or sometimes just having a little chat before retiring. Mr. Carson was glad to see that it would be wine tonight. Mrs. Hughes poured two glasses and handed one to her companion.

Mr. Carson raised his glass for a toast. "To Downton," he said.

Mrs. Hughes rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Carson, but I think Downton will get by just fine without a toast from the likes of me. I'll make better use of mine." She raised her glass with a smile and spoke. "To leftover wine and good company!"

Mr. Carson had no complaint about this. He raised his glass and repeated her toast, smiling back.

After they had set down their empty glasses, Mrs. Hughes suggested that it was time for them both to get some sleep. She moved toward the door, but Mr. Carson stopped her.

"Wait, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "There is something I need to speak to you about before you go."

"Very well, Mr. Carson," she answered, turning away from the door to face him expectantly. "You have my attention."

Mr. Carson surprised Mrs. Hughes by taking her hand between both of his. "There's no dignified way to go about this, so I'll just speak plainly."

Mrs. Hughes stood very still, her eyes wide, wondering what he meant to say to her.

"I love you, Elsie Hughes. I have for some time. I do not expect that you will return my sentiments immediately, but please do tell me if I might have some chance of winning you."

Mrs. Hughes was not quite speechless, but she certainly was not able to speak very fluently. "I am surprised, Mr. Carson, but...but I can tell you that I do not object to...your attention and that I do think you have a good chance of...succeeding."

Mr. Carson kissed her hand, then raised his hand to caress her blushing cheek.

"What if I told you, Mr. Carson, that you won me a long time ago?" Mrs. Hughes asked, eyes twinkling. She suddenly found herself lodged firmly but rather comfortably between the wall and Mr. Carson.

"Well, first I would do this." And he kissed her soundly. "Then I would ask Mr. Travis to read the banns." Another long, lingering kiss. "And then I would make you my wife."

Mrs. Hughes, a little breathless, fixed him with an arch look. "And have I no say in the matter, Mr. Carson?" she asked.

"Of course you have, m'dear," answered Mr. Carson with a smile. "So what_ do_ you say?"

Mrs. Hughes waited a long moment, seemingly sizing him up, before she gave a quick nod. "You'll do," she said with a mischievous smile. "Now kiss me again. Mr. Travis can wait until tomorrow."

Mr. Carson was happy to oblige her, and neither noticed someone just outside the door, which had not been fully closed.

Mrs. Patmore chuckled to herself as she made her way down the dark hallway to get a glass of water. She had wondered when, if ever, those two would make a match of it. It was past time, in her opinion, but better late than never. Oh, this news would be the talk of the house for quite a while, both upstairs and downstairs.

#####

After a few more kisses, Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes went their separate ways. Neither expected to get any rest, but exhaustion won out over excitement and both were sleeping peacefully within a few minutes of climbing into their respective beds. Mr. Carson's last thoughts as he fell asleep were of the strange letter he had received that morning. It was now nothing but ash in the library fireplace, but he remembered it well enough, especially the postscript.

_Yo, Carson,_

_OMG WTF is going on at Downton Abbey?! Congratulations on an eventful few months and all. A wedding and a half, a cancer scare, two new babies, an innocent man finally out of prison, vacation in Scotland, a shirtless ex-chauffeur, two dead family members, and a bunch of other great shit. I mean, really. I. can't. even._

_BUT we haven't heard a peep out of you guys for months. We're just reblogging old stuff now, over and over again. We need new content! Give us some effing drama! You are in charge of the house and you are falling down on the job. Old Lady Grantham said once that an aristocrat without servants is as much use to the county as a glass hammer, which we all thought was very clever (OMFG that BAMF Violet - what is air?), so she would seriously get what we mean when we say the following. Downton Abbey without feels is about as much use to the DA fandom as an episode of _Two and a Half Men_. Get on the stick, Carson. You're all letting us down, and if anybody can make things right, it's you._

_Cordially,_

_Tumblr_

_BTDubs, we all know you're jonesing for Mrs. H. Do something about it, dude. I mean, come ON._

The End.


End file.
